day and listen to Nan Burgess appraise her
lovers or to sing a song every time Wally Dalton has his relapse of
lovesickness. He has come away to forget her, you know." She chuckled,
uttering her funny little gurgle of a laugh which stirred in him,
always, a desire to smother it with kisses.

They went to the end of the bridge, apart from the man at the wheel.

"I hurried to go to sleep last night so that I could dream of you, my
own big boy."

"I walked the bridge until after daylight. I wanted to stay awake. I
could not bear to let sleep take away my thoughts."

"What is there like love to make this world full of happiness? How
bright the sun is! How the waves sparkle! Those folks sitting back there
are looking at the same things we are--or they can look, though they
don't seem to have sense enough. And about all they notice is that it's
daylight instead of night. My father and those men are talking about
money--just money--that's all. And Wally has a headache from drinking
too much Scotch. And Nan Burgess doesn't love anybody who loves her, But
for us--oh, this glorious world!"

She put out her arms toward the sun and stared boldly at that blazing
orb, as though she were not satisfied with what her eyes could behold,
but desired to grasp and feel some of the glory of outdoors. If Captain
Mayo had been as well versed in psychology as he was in navigation
he might have drawn a few disquieting deductions from this frank and
unconscious expression of the mood of the materialist. She emphasized
that mood by word.

"I'll show you my little clasp-book some day, big boy. It's where I
write my verses. I don't show them to anybody. You see, I'm telling you
my secrets! We must tell each other our secrets, you and I! I have put
my philosophy of living into four lines. Listen!

"The future? Why perplex the soul? The past? Forget its woe and strife!
Let's thread each day, a perfect whole, Upon our rosary of Life."

"It's beautiful," he told her.

"Isn't it good philosophy?"

"Yes," he admitted, not daring to doubt the high priestess of the new
cult to which he had been commandeered.

"It saves all this foolish worry. Most of the folks I know are always
talking about the bad things which have happened to them or are peering
forward and hoping that good things will happen, and they never once
look down and admire a golden moment which Fate has dropped into their
hands. You see, I'm poetical this morning. Why shouldn't I